


Sacrifice

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Best Buds [13]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Best Friends, Discovery, First Time, Friendship, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3363212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trent knows Blaine belongs to him but how does he prove that fact to the world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> May 2007 -- Blaine is 18 years old. Trent is 17.

"Holy shit, Budman!"

"There is absolutely nothing holy about this, Trent."

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Blaine quickly disposed of the foul-smelling diaper. The second it was safely stuffed in the diaper pail, he let out his breath with a loud whoosh. "Geeze Louise! Where in the hell did all that shit come from? She’s only being fed breast milk, for God’s sake."

Grabbing the container of baby powder, he rolled his baby sister over on her tummy and aimed it in the direction of her butt. One squeeze later and a cloud of sinus-clogging powder was settling over everything -- Elizabeth Anne’s bottom, her back, her head, and the face of his boyfriend. Trent had, unfortunately, chosen that very moment to bend down and make silly faces at the baby.

Blaine fell out laughing when his boyfriend straightened up and glared at him, his green eyes blazing in a sea of white.

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Trent groused, scrubbing his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

Keeping a firm hold on his sister’s back, Blaine circled the changing table, his only thought to help his boyfriend wipe the powder from his face. The moment he saw the gleam in Trent’s eyes he reversed directions. "Uh, Trent, uh, whatever you’re thinking, don’t." He hoisted Elizabeth Anne off the table and held her directly in front of himself like a protective shield. "Baby on board, remember? No rough housing near the baby. House rules."

Trent took possession of Elizabeth Anne and carefully laid her down in her crib, making sure she was positioned correctly on her belly. With a final pat to her back, which caused another, albeit smaller, cloud of powder to rise in the air, he turned around.

Blaine thought of fleeing to Antarctica but, before he could even move, Trent tackled him against the wall next to the changing table. The kiss that followed had him frantically wishing he could reach the bottle of baby oil spied out of the corner of his eye. Of course if he couldn’t get to the oil, there was a container of lotion right behind Trent, and lotion that was safe enough for a baby had to be safe enough for what he had in mind, right?

It didn’t take long before the lack of air made him realize breathing was more important than fucking. He ripped his mouth free. "Wow," he gasped between sucking in shitloads of oxygen.

Laughter filled the room again, but this time it was Trent laughing at him. "You should see yourself," he crowed.

Blaine could only imagine what he looked like. No doubt there was powder smeared all over his face, courtesy of one Mr. Trent Anderson and his breath-stealing kisses. Grabbing a handful of baby wipes, he scrubbed his face clean and then handed the wipes to his boyfriend. Unhappy sounds from the antique baby crib reminded him of the task he had yet to complete.

A fresh diaper was confiscated from a nearby pile and expertly fitted on Elizabeth Anne’s tiny bum. He was in the process of slipping a pink Winnie-the-Pooh jumpsuit on his sister when Trent spoke up.

"Hate to tell ya, but you just diapered a powdered poopy butt."

"Huh?" He looked down at Elizabeth Anne and then over at Trent. "What are you talking about?"

"You forgot to wash her butt off before plastering it with powder."

Eyes wide with chagrin, Blaine contemplated the gazillion number of snaps and buttons he had just finished fastening. "I won’t tell if you won’t," he whispered in a conspiratorial voice to his sister and grinned when she cooed in response.

"How ‘bout you? You promise not to spill the beans?" He glanced over his shoulder and found his boyfriend staring at Elizabeth Anne. The look of tenderness on Trent’s face had him falling in love all over again.

Trent had suffered a major dose of guilt with regards to the death of Elizabeth Anne’s twin brother and had refused to have anything to do with the newest member of the Matthews family once she was allowed home from the hospital. It wasn’t until Blaine had locked Trent and Elizabeth Anne in the baby’s room that his boyfriend had even consented to look at her. Listening with the baby monitor, he had given the two of them time to bond, and when he finally opened the door an hour later, he had been relieved to find Trent firmly ensconced in his grandmother’s rocking chair cuddling Elizabeth Anne against his chest. It was love at first sight for the two, and Trent was now a constant visitor to the baby’s room.

"Hey."

Trent’s voice interrupted his musings. "Yeah?" Blaine grabbed a blanket and tucked it around his sister’s tiny body.

"Just checking," Trent said. "You seemed lost in thought."

"Nah." Embarrassed to confess his sappy thoughts, he asked, "Just wondering if we’re still going to the racetrack this afternoon?"

Trent shoved him out of the way and bent over the edge of the crib so that he could tickle his newest girlfriend. "Sure thing," he answered. "Dad said our passes would be waiting for us at the gate."

"Cool." Blaine slipped in behind Trent and nuzzled the back of his neck. "Can’t believe we’re gonna have full access to Kenney Busche’s pit crew. It’ll be like we’re at the Indy 500. Sliding his hand beneath Trent’s tee, he palmed his boyfriend’s pecs and smiled when he heard the groan that welcomed his touch. "You sure this won’t cause problems for your dad. I mean he just got this job."

"Fuck yeah!" Trent exclaimed, shoving back against him. "I mean, no! Dad and Kenney are good friends. Remember me telling you how they served together in the National Guard after college?"

Trent’s enthusiastic response to the rock-solid shaft riding his crack had Blaine shuddering helplessly. "What with the way your ass is making nice with my dick, it’s a wonder I can remember my name, much less anything else."

"Good thing Elizabeth Anne is here." Trent twisted around wearing a wicked grin on his face. "Otherwise, my ass would be doing more than making nice."

Blaine was on the verge of reminding Trent to behave when he was shut down by a kiss that was anything but cold.

"Let’s blow this place, Budman," Trent whispered.

"Did you have to use the word _blow_?" Blaine asked while adjusting himself in his jeans. He was halfway out the door when Trent stopped him.

"Forget something?"

He stared quizzically at his boyfriend’s smirk for a full ten seconds before slapping his forehead. "Oh shit!" Backtracking immediately, he gathered up his baby sister and rejoined Trent at the door. "You’d think I’d remember something as important as this little cutie." He held Elizabeth Anne up in the air and raspberried her tummy.

"You’re forgiven, Budman. I mean . . . ." 

A hand slid down over his still straining crotch. 

“ . . . you did have your mind on other things."

"If you don’t remove your hand from my _thing_ ," he warned, "Elizabeth Anne is going to get an eyeful, and I’m pretty sure she’s a little too young for such a sight as that."

Hooting laughter preceded him down the hall. Shaking his head, he followed after Trent while softly confessing to Elizabeth Anne, "He’s the one, baby sister, which means a lot of hugging and kissing and other stuff." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Lots and lots of other stuff knowing Trent. Think you can handle it?"

Baby bubbles were his answer, and he had no problem with that.

 

+++++++

 

Trent didn’t know where to look first so he tried looking everywhere at once. The driver, the car, the NASCAR race track, the crowd, his dad, Blaine. His gawking halted the second his gaze lit upon his boyfriend.

Damn if Blaine didn’t look good. Standing there in his tight Levi’s and the white, sleeveless Harley Davidson t-shirt. Trent couldn’t remember a time when Blaine wasn’t tan and buff with muscles that had all the boys jealous and all the girls drooling. Even when he was younger, Blaine was always working out with weights. It was something he and his dad did together, which was one reason the Matthews men were the envy of all.

"Drool all you want, people," he whispered to no one in particular. "That ass belongs to me, and as soon as I can get Blaine home and in bed, that ass will literally be mine."

Two days ago Blaine had claimed his ass with a fucking that he would remember for the rest of his life. The act itself had been mind-blowing and totally exhausting, and the two of them had fallen asleep in each other’s arms shortly thereafter. The following morning was to have been all about him riding Blaine’s sweet ass, but that plan had been put on hold the second he’d discovered the tell-tale photographs left behind by his boyfriend’s two interfering sisters. Morning erections were quickly taken care of by eager hands and mouths, leaving a certain hole high and dry.

"Not for long, Budman," he promised with a lewd grin. "Your ass has a date with Mr. Fantastic tonight, and neither rain nor sleet nor hail will prevent me from fucking you through the floor."

He tore his gaze away from Blaine’s fine ass when his dad slapped him on the arm.

"Got to get to work," Devin said. "The race starts in an hour, and I need to check over the car’s engine one last time. If you can live without Blaine for a few minutes, you’re welcome to come with me."

Memories of all the times when he, as a young boy, had helped his dad work on the family vehicles came rushing back, and he was more than ready to go. "Sure," he said. "Blaine just got snagged by Alex Comeaux. They’re heading to the communications truck, so . . . ." Throwing his arms open wide, he announced, "I’m all yours, Dad. Lead on."

Trent caught Blaine’s attention, and with a nod of his head, indicated that he was following after his father. His boyfriend acknowledged him with a smile and a wave of his hand. He stood staring at Blaine’s retreating form until his ear was yanked on none too gently.

"Lord, son, try and keep your mind on what’s happening today. Not every kid gets a chance to see a NASCAR race up close and personal."

"Sorry, Dad." Trent knew his cheeks were fire-engine red. Hanging his head in embarrassment, he mumbled, "This thing with Blaine is just so damn new. I can’t quite believe . . ."

Devin interrupted. "It’s okay. I was just joking." He threw an arm around him. "Believe it or not, I do remember what it was like to be head over heels in love. Hell, I followed after your mom with my jaw dragging the ground half the time." Devin rubbed his forehead. "I still to this day can’t figure out what she saw in me."

Trent walked alongside his father. "Mom used to say she wouldn’t trade you for all the _Don Johnson_ ’s in the world. And her face always, always lit up with a huge smile the minute she saw you. Even when the pain from the cancer got so bad . . . ." Unable to continue, he clutched the locket hidden under his tee. "She loved you, Dad," he choked out, "to the max."

"You, too," Devin replied.

Trent glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of the shadows of sadness and loss that chased across his father’s face. His own eyes immediately filled with unshed tears. Welcoming the arm slung across his shoulder, he traded smiles with the man he admired above all others and vowed right then and there to love Blaine as much as his parents had loved each other.

"How ‘bout we go check out Kenney’s ride?" Devin said after a moment of shared silence.

"Yeah." Trent wiped his eyes and grinned. "Hey, Dad, you think Kenney would mind if I sat inside the car? Maybe take it for a spin?"

"In your dreams, Sport."

Trent laughed.

 

+++++++

 

Shading his eyes from the bright sunlight, Trent searched the bustling area for his boyfriend. He came up empty-handed.

"Where are ya, Budman?"

Garrett Steele, the crew member in charge of refueling, stood nearby. Seeing no one else he knew well enough to question, he approached the man. "Mr. Steele, remember me?"

The former WWF wrestler glanced his way. "You’re Devin’s boy, right?" he asked, pushing his sunglasses up and squinting at him.

"Yeah, that’s me," Trent answered. He again did a quick search of the crowd in and around the pit. "You haven’t by any chance seen my friend, Blaine?" he asked. "I can’t find him anywhere."

"Hang on a sec." Steele cocked his head to the left and listened to whoever was communicating with him through his headphones. "No, we’re good to go," he said into the microphone extension that rested against his jaw. "Hey, Hank, I’ve got Devin’s boy here with me." Steele clasped his arm and dragged him close. "Seems his friend is MIA. Do you see him on the monitors?"

The answer he received was obviously not to his liking. Steele turned away and cupped his hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep his conversation private. It was a wasted effort; Trent heard every word.

"Shit. Are you sure, Hank?"

Trent watched as Steele looked over his shoulder and frowned. The man’s look of displeasure only served to increase his anxiety. Something was not right, and somehow it involved Blaine.

"Mr. Steele?" He tugged on the older man’s arm and jumped back when Steele shouted into his microphone.

"Tell that shit-for-brains to get his fucking ass over here ASAP."

"What’s wrong?" Trent asked. "Has something happened to Blaine? Is he in trouble?"

Steele took a moment to check on the members of his crew. "Your friend’s fine," he eventually answered. "But if I was you, I’d warn him to stay away from Alex." Steele headed off his next question with a curt motion of his hand. "Alex is our resident Romeo, and it seems he’s taken a somewhat active interest in your friend."

Trent blinked and then blinked again. He was stunned to say the least. Yeah, he expected teenage girls and boys to throw themselves at Blaine, but it never crossed his mind to worry about adult men putting the moves on his boyfriend. Why this hadn’t occurred to him he couldn’t say but shit, now he’d have to keep his eye on all ages. Blaine was his, and nobody better mess with what belonged to him. In fact, as soon as he laid eyes on Alex, he’d make it crystal clear that it was hands off or else.

Steele broke his train of thought with a tap to his arm. "Here comes your friend," he said.

Trent closely examined his boyfriend and except for flushed cheeks, Blaine appeared to be okay. The same couldn’t be said for Alex. The dark-skinned Cajun sported a split lip and the beginnings of a major shiner. Trent couldn’t help but grin when he saw the physical evidence of Blaine’s rejection.

Trent met his boyfriend halfway after thanking Mr. Steele for his help. He clasped Blaine’s bicep for a brief second and smiled when an answering grip attached itself to his arm. "You okay?" he asked.

Blaine nodded sharply. "I’m gonna go look for your dad," he forced out between clenched teeth.

From the murderous look on Blaine’s face, Trent could tell that Alex’s well-being was in serious danger. "Yeah, sure." He nodded his understanding and stepped to the side. As soon as Blaine passed Trent stepped back and blocked Alex from following. Crossing his arms over his chest he declared emphatically, "Blaine’s mine."

"Says who, Junior?" Alex asked with a sneer. "It’s not like he’s wearing a fucking wedding ring."

Fists clenched, Trent got right up in the man’s face. Before he could put his anger into words, Steele stepped between them.

"You," Steele pointed to Alex, "have a job to do. I suggest you get to it."

"You," Steele’s attention transferred itself to him, "need to go find your dad so that he can take you and your friend up to the owner’s box. Kenney’s arranged for the two of you to watch the race from there."

Taking a huge calming breath, he again thanked the older man. Whether he knew or not, Steele had prevented one major spilling of blood. Of course, it went without saying, that the blood would have been Alex’s and not his.

With a feral grin planted firmly in place, he stood staring at Alex long after the Cajun had disappeared from view. He nodded decisively once, then turned and went in search of his boyfriend.

"Blaine is mine, you asshole, and if you want proof, proof is what you’ll get. Irrefutable proof."

 

+++++++

 

Blaine exited the bathroom with a towel slung around his neck. He had just finished taking the longest, hottest shower of his life in an attempt to wash away Alex Comeaux’s unwelcomed touch. The man had not only bruised the family jewels but had attempted to lay a kiss on him with a breath that reeked of garlic and cigars. It was a wonder he hadn’t barfed all over his shoes.

Blaine used the towel around his neck to dry his hair, then swiped at the moisture still clinging to his bare chest. Naked, he crossed the room to his dresser and collected a pair of ratty old jeans. The towel around his neck was accurately tossed through the bathroom door. He flexed his shoulder and grinned when he felt absolutely no pain. Baseball practice would start the minute he arrived at college, and he needed to be in the best shape possible.

Pulling on his jeans, he moved over to the bed, leaving the waistband unbuttoned and the zipper at half-mast. He was making himself comfortable when his father walked in.

Sean took a look around. "Where’s Trent?" he asked.

Leaning back against the pillows piled behind him, Blaine collected the _Clive Cussler_ book he was reading. "Said he had an errand to run." He glanced at the clock on his dresser. "Are you guys still going to the movies?"

"Yeah." 

His father picked up the NASCAR cap he’d brought home from the racetrack. "Sure you and Trent don’t want to come with us? I’d appreciate the support." A grimace crossed his father’s face. "It’s another one of those chick flicks, and I just know I’m gonna end up with a soaked shirt from all the crying. If you and Trent came along, it’d be one guy per girl. You two could handle your sisters while I take care of your mom."

Blaine laughed. "And just where does Elizabeth Anne fit into this equation?"

"Your baby sister’s got the best deal of all." Sean tossed the cap at him. "She’s visiting with your grandparents."

Grinning, Blaine threw the cap back at his father. "You’re on your own, Pops. Have fun."

Sean glared at him for all of thirty seconds before breaking into laughter. "Hey, just so you’ll know, Dan’s coming for a visit next week."

Blaine tried hard to keep his surprise from showing on his face. "Mom’s okay with him coming?" His father directed a confused look his way, and he hurried to explain. "I mean, she’s kinda got her hands filled with Elizabeth Anne. Is she up to it?"

Sean slipped the NASCAR cap on his head. "Actually, your mom’s the one who suggested he come. She’s not bouncing back from this pregnancy like she used to, emotionally I mean. The erratic mood swings, well, it’s been rough, as you well know. Not to mention, she’s totally tired of me hovering over her 24/7."

Blaine nodded his understanding. His dad had always been protective of his family, and it came as no surprise for him to shift into high gear with the birth of Elizabeth Anne, especially considering the circumstances.

He hid his grin. Talk about mother hen syndrome. Except for when he was at work, his dad was at his mother’s side pretty much all the time. No wonder she’d asked his father’s former lover to come for a visit.

"It’ll be good to see Uncle Dan before I go off to college," he told his father.

"Yeah, same here." Sean checked his reflection in the mirror. "Hate to admit it, but I miss having him around. California’s so damn far away. Wish he’d move back here."

Blaine considered what that meant and when a certain image came to mind, he slammed the door shut on those thoughts. It was one thing to know his dad was bisexual and was once in a relationship with a man he and his sisters called uncle. It was another to imagine what that relationship entailed.

He quickly changed the subject. "If you want, you can wear my hat to the movies."

Sean touched the cap’s brim. "Well, thank you, son. That’s mighty generous."

Blaine grinned at the woe-is-me look on his dad’s face. "It’s the least I can do."

"Sean! It’s time to leave."

"Yeah, Dad. Let’s get this show on the road!"

"Daaaaad! Come on already."

Blaine grinned openly. "Your entourage awaits you."

Sean glanced at the door as if he was about to face a firing squad. "Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind? Offer you money? Buy you a new truck? Stocks? Bonds? Give you my baseball card collection?"

"SEAN MATTHEWS!"

Blaine opened his book, once again concealing his grin. "I’d haul butt if I was you, Dad. You know what happens when Mom uses that tone of voice."

"Oh yeah. I’m shaking in my boots." Waving a hand through the air, Sean walked to the door and barely kept from running smack into Trent. "Try and leave some food in the fridge, okay you two? Last time we went to the movies and left you guys behind, the only thing left in the fridge was a wilted head of lettuce."

"Don’t worry, Mr. Matthews, we ate before we came home," Trent said, patting the older man on the shoulder. "But if we do raid the fridge, we’ll make sure to leave at least a tomato to go along with that head of lettuce. Just in case you want to make a salad."

Sean shook a warning finger at both of them before leaving. "If I had known then what I know now," he loudly muttered as he headed down the hallway, "I would have most definitely become a monk. Kids!"

Blaine shared a chuckle with his boyfriend while listening to his father’s most favorite rant. If he’d heard it once, he’d heard it a thousand times.

"Did you get your errand done?" he asked after plumping the pillows behind his back.

"Yep," Trent replied after locking the bedroom door. Kicking off his shoes and socks, he joined him on the bed. "I’m all yours, Budman." He rolled over on his belly and eyed the tantalizing crotch that was mere inches away. "Or should I say you’re all mine." Trent gazed hopefully up at him.

Blaine obeyed the silent request glimpsed in the green eyes staring at him. Spreading his legs, he groaned softly when one very lean and trim body settled between them. It didn’t take an Einstein to realize what was on Trent’s mind. The way his boyfriend was eyeing his package and licking his lips, Blaine knew he was about to have his brains sucked out through his dick.

So not a problem, he thought dazedly.

Hands cradled his ass, pulling him lower in bed so that his crotch could be nuzzled. Moaning, he tangled his fingers in the soft strands of hair brushing against his naked abdomen.

"Suck me, Trent," he begged. "I’m clean. Just took a shower and washed that bastard’s touch off me."

The teeth pulling open his zipper stopped what they were doing, leaving his near-to-bursting dick confined. He knew he should question the hesitation, but his mind was totally occupied elsewhere. It hurt like hell to be left stranded with his jeans half undone, especially considering the fact that he had neglected to put on underwear after his shower. The zipper’s metal teeth bit into the super sensitive flesh of his shaft, causing him to hiss aloud. "Treeennnnnnntttttt."

"Shit, Budman." 

Opening eyes he didn’t realize he had closed, he watched in confusion. Trent had not only changed his mind about giving him a blowjob but was now pulling away completely and scrambling to his knees. He felt a sense of relief when his boyfriend, thankfully, remained on the bed.

Carding a hand through his damp hair, he kept his gaze pinned on Trent’s face. He wasn’t sure what he had done or said, but he sure as hell didn’t want Trent to leave. Not tonight, not now that they were alone and could finish what they had started two nights ago.

"Babe?" He adjusted his slowly deflating dick to the side and sighed with relief when the zipper was no longer in danger of slicing through the first layer of skin. Realizing Trent had not answered him, he queried again, “Babe, are you alright?”

Trent sat staring at something, and it wasn’t until he looked down at his chest that he realized his boyfriend’s eyes were glued to his tattoo. "Something wrong with my tat?" he asked.

Trent braced his hands on his knees and learned forward. Before he could ask another question he felt warm lips softly touch down on the tattooed shield containing his boyfriend’s initials. The lips then detoured to his pierced tit and tugged on the gold hoop. His wilting erection immediately surged to life again.

Throwing back his head, he yelped when it banged on the headboard behind him. "Shit!" Metal teeth gnawed at his growing shaft a second time. Frantic to avoid further pain, he fumbled for his zipper, but Trent beat him to it.

"Gonna do more than suck you, Budman," Trent whispered huskily. Quickly he stripped off his clothes, rolling back and forth on the bed, shucking off shirt, jeans and underwear until he was completely naked. "I’m going to fuck you," Trent declared, getting to his knees and leaning forward so that he could whisper in his ear. "Gonna nail your fine ass to this bed and make you mine."

His jeans were eased down his legs and, once they were free, thrown on the floor. 

"Damn," Trent exclaimed when he got his first look at the erection pointing straight at him. "I sure as hell will never get tired of looking at that big boy."

Blaine grew extremely short-winded when the head of his dick was swiped repeatedly by the hottest tongue in the South. "Ye . . . yes. Oh . . . oh hell! Trent, fuck me. Please."

Trent ignored his plea and nibbled on his dick as if it was the best tasting thing in the world. Helpless, Blaine watched.

It didn’t take long for Trent to realize his teasing was a bit too much. With a smirk, he rubbed a hand over his scalp. "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t snatch me bald."

"I’d appreciate it if you’d get down to business." He gripped Trent’s chin, pulled him close and ravished his mouth. "We don’t have all night, remember?" he warned.

"I know exactly how long we have,” Trent replied. “Checked the paper for movie times before I came over." 

His boyfriend next took a tour of his chest, sucking hard on his pierced nipples and nipping at the six-pack abs below them. “We have about three hours, more if Angel talks your dad into taking them to _Dairy Queen_ for milkshakes like she normally does”

He sunk his fingers in the thickness of Trent’s hair and tried to guide his blazing mouth to where it was needed most. "Come on. Suck me." For a moment he thought Trent would give in. Unfortunately, the mouth driving him insane refused to budge an inch once it encountered a bellybutton that begged to be explored.

Blaine groaned.

After several minutes Trent took pity on him. "Where’s the stuff?" he asked.

Forcing one hand away from Trent’s head, he reached under the pillow next to him and handed over his bottle of lube. "Here," he said.

Trent glanced at the half-empty bottle and chuckled. "Looks like you’ve been dancing solo quite a bit."

"You have no idea," he replied. He hunted for the condoms he’d tucked under his pillow the second he found out his family was going to the movies. Locating one, he tossed it at his boyfriend. "Suit up, babe. My ass is getting mighty impatient."

Trent grabbed for the foil wrapper and ripped it open with his teeth. Blaine nearly reclaimed the condom because he so desperately wanted to do the honors of sliding it on. Unfortunately his brain was in the process of a major meltdown, and the reason for his state of mental mush was the inferno inhaling the entire length of his dick.

"Fuck!"

It wasn’t long until a finger breached his hole, and he again felt the same breath-stealing sensation he had before. His entire body tightened, tightened almost to the point of pain.

Trent obviously sensed his distress. He allowed Blaine’s dick to slip from his mouth, and laying his head down on the thigh closest to him, started crooning nonsensical words.

The tension soon eased, leaving behind a hunger that damn near paralyzed him. The paralysis evaporated when a second and then a third slippery finger gently slid inside his ass and stretched muscles that had never embraced anything larger than the narrow dildo his dad had given him on his sixteenth birthday. Of course it went without saying that the three fingers riding his hole were so much better.

He pulled his knees to his chest. "Fuck me," he growled. "Now."

Trent fumbled for the lube. As soon as his boyfriend had finished coating his dick with the slick stuff, Blaine allowed Trent to grab his legs and hook them over his shoulders.

"Ready, Budman?" Trent asked.

"What the hell do you think?" He lifted his hips off the bed. "For God’s sake, Trent, please!"

"Okay, okay." Trent rolled his eyes. "Guess somebody’s not in the mood for romance."

Blaine glared at his boyfriend. "I swear I’m gonna---HOLY SHIT!" Looking down the length of his torso, he watched in utter amazement at the dick knocking at his back door. It slid in slowly, one torturous inch at a time.

Levitating off the bed, he sobbed with relief once Trent’s bad boy was completely sheathed inside his ass. It burned, it hurt like hell, but seconds later, it felt fucking amazing, became the most unbelievable feeling he had ever experienced in his entire life.

How could it get any better than this? he wondered.

The red-hot poker in his ass shifted, and he knew exactly what it would take to make it better.

"Damn it, Trent, move. Nail my ass."

Gently his raised legs were repositioned, and Trent went to work fulfilling his request.

"This . . . this is fan-fucking-tastic. So hot, so damn . . . Shit, Blaine, it’s . . . ." Trent leaned forward, pushing his legs into his chest so that he was almost bent in two. "Awesome, awesome, awesome" Trent muttered each time he thrust forward. 

His boyfriend’s concentration was so focused on what he was doing Blaine knew his dick was going to be left high and dry. Wanting the two of them to come together, he took himself in hand. He jerked on his dick while watching Trent’s face. He looked overwhelmed, ecstatic, and in pain, all at the same time. It was the same look he knew he had worn the night he’d claimed Trent’s virgin ass.

He groaned when Trent pressed forward in an attempt to capture a kiss. His legs were almost numb by the time his boyfriend realized he couldn’t reach his objective. What did reach though was Trent’s chain and the graduation ring hanging from it. The heavy gold ring repeatedly slammed into his chin. Finally, he grabbed the darn thing and slung it so that it disappeared over Trent’s shoulder.

The ring, the chain, his bruised chin -- all of it faded from his mind the second Trent nailed his prostate not once but twice. Pleasure beyond description shorted out his brain, and he came like he’d never come before. Roaring at the top of his lungs, he screamed Trent’s name repeatedly as his release coated his abdomen and chest.

The fireworks were still going off full blast when Trent shot his load. One last clumsy thrust nailed his prostate, and all conscious thoughts went up in smoke. By the time his brain came back online, an incoherent Trent was plastered to his chest, mumbling what he could only hope were declarations of love.

"Mine . . . nobody will never . . . always, always . . . forever . . . can plainly see . . . no mistakin’ it now."

Blaine shook his head in amazement and rolled Trent over on his back so that he could dispose of the used condom and wipe them both clean. Lube oozed from his sore ass, and suddenly he was thankful for the hand towel he’d had the foresight to hide under his pillow along with the condoms. He tucked it between the cheeks of his ass and hoped they hadn’t made too much of a mess. He sure didn’t feel up to changing the sheets and doing laundry.

Trent was still splayed boneless on the bed and not making any sense. Considering what had just happened, it was a wonder his boyfriend could even speak.

"Yep, yep," Trent mumbled. "Until death . . . with this ring . . . ."

The comment about the ring eventually snagged his attention.

"Speaking of rings . . ." He hooked a finger under the thin gold chain hugging Trent’s neck. It took a bit of maneuvering, both of the chain and his boyfriend’s dead weight body, before he was able to liberate his high school graduation ring. He worked it along the chain until it lay nestled amongst sparse chest hair.

"I know you don’t want to hear this," he whispered, "but I really do wish you would wear my ring." He continued to gaze at the piece of jewelry, and it wasn’t long before something struck him as a little bit off.

He flattened his hands on Trent’s chest, framing the chain with his outstretched fingers. Once he did that he realized what was wrong. "What the hell?"

Choked with emotion, he stared dumbfounded at the simple gold band adorning his left ring finger. He had never seen the ring before in his life and could only surmise that Trent had slipped it on him while they were making love. "At least now I know what you were mumbling about."

He looked from his ring to the one that hung from the chain around Trent’s neck. "Wonder if this means we’re---"

His eyes widening with dismay, he scrambled to his knees. "Trent, wake up," he called to his drowsy boyfriend.

Trent mumbled something and tried to roll over on his side. "Later, dude, okay? I’m wiped out."

HE caught hold of Trent’s shoulders and prevented him from turning. "Trent, wake up. Open your eyes." A face-splitting yawn was his only response. "Trent!" He yelled. "Open your goddamn eyes and look at me."

Trent snapped his eyes open and sat straight up, nearly throwing him off the bed. "What? What? Is there a fire? Is the fam back already?"

Blaine straddled Trent’s thighs and held him in place by clutching the chain around his neck. "Where’s your mother’s locket?" he demanded. Leaning forward, he got right up in his boyfriend’s face. "Tell me you didn’t pawn your mother’s locket so that you could buy me this ring." He held his left hand up.

Trent refused to meet his eyes, looking instead at the ring in question. "It was only a cheap piece of jewelry. Nothing special," he mumbled, his voice catching on the last word.

"Trent Anderson, that locket was not a che--"

Trent cut him off. "Besides, you’re about to go off to college without me. I need to make sure that everybody there knows you’re taken, that you belong to me.” 

Trent lifted his head and looked him straight in the eye, 

"I don’t want you forgetting me. Hell, Blaine, you’re gonna be over there with all those jocks and such, and as fine looking as you are, I just know somebody’s gonna try and put the moves on you, try to get in your pants ‘cause you’re so fucking hot."

Trent caught his hand and fiddled with the ring he’d slipped on earlier. "I mean I know I’m not all that great to look at, and I sure as hell don’t have the smarts like you. Not to mention I’m a total rookie when it comes to all this gay stuff. I have no doubt that you could find somebody better and handsomer and smarter to love.”

He halted Trent’s outburst with a kiss that had them both moaning and struggling for breath. He thought he had accomplished his mission, but the second they pulled apart for air, Trent was right back at it.

"It goes without saying that I love you, Budman. And to think that in just three months you’ll be gone and I’ll be left here, by myself."

He kissed Trent again, and this time when the kiss ended, silence, thankfully, was his only response. Lying back down on the bed, he tugged on Trent’s arm. "Come here," he instructed. "Let me hold you."

Trent slid into place beside him, using his chest as a pillow.

Spreading his legs, he coaxed Trent into slipping one of his between them. Once he did so, the new position brought their dicks into contact. Both of them groaned in unison and spent the next few minutes just enjoying the unique sensation.

After a while, he threaded his fingers through Trent’s hair and used the soft strands as leverage, pulling him away from the nipple he was lazily licking.

"I love this ring," he declared as soon as he had Trent’s full attention. "And it blows my mind to know the sacrifice you made in order to buy it."

He swooped in for a quick kiss, then said with absolute seriousness, "I need you to listen to me, Trent, and listen to me good." Looking directly into the doubting green eyes staring back at him, he declared, "One, I will always wear your ring."

"Two, you can rest assured that no guy or girl will steal me away from you. Hell, if you want, you can write number two in stone, ‘cause, three . . ."

He wrapped both his arms and legs around Trent and squeezed for all he was worth. "Three, I love you, you dork. I’ve loved you since I was 12, and I plan to keep on loving you until, well . . ." He held up his left hand again. ". . . ‘til death do us part. How’s that sound?"

Trent nipped his chin before huskily whispering, "Sounds perfect, Budman."

The two of them spent the next hour kissing and leisurely exploring each other’s body. It wasn’t until they were drying each other off after a playful shower that he got up the gumption to ask the question that had been plaguing him since he’d discovered the ring on his finger.

"Trent?"

Trent tossed him the comb he’d borrowed. "Yeah?"

He stepped into place behind his boyfriend and nuzzled the back of his neck. "Do you think it would be okay for you to start wearing my ring now? I mean, I’ll be wearing yours. The least you cou---"

Trent turned unexpectedly and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. "Man, your observation skills are the pits." He held out his left hand where it could be seen. "Already wearing the goods, lover. Thought it was only fair."

For a moment Blaine couldn’t speak. All he could was stare at the large ring twirling loosely on Trent’s finger. Finally he grabbed the younger teen by the arm and hauled him in for another kiss.

Trent happily surrendered his mouth. Once it was released, he hit him with a grin that was wickedness in its purest form. "I’m starved. Let’s go raid the fridge."

Mesmerized by the gorgeous ass leading the way into his bedroom, he mutely followed. The object of his attention suddenly wiggled at him, and he fell out laughing. "You butt-hole!"

"Catch me and that butt-hole is all yours, Budman."

Chasing after his naked boyfriend, Blaine yelled, "Hey! Did I tell ya Uncle Dan’s coming for a visit?"

 

To be continued . . . .

**Author's Note:**

> Kenney Bueche and all members of his NASCAR crew belong to my imagination.


End file.
